


domesticate

by dreamtiwasanarchitect



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, But in This He's Also Super Creepy!, Butt Plugs, Consent Issues, Gags, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Panties, Rope Bondage, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect
Summary: It’s like when his sister got a new cat—she’d had to introduce it to her home slowly, giving it plenty of space, letting it hide under the couch and occasionally hiss. It didn’t take long before it warmed up to her.Joe knows it will be the same with Nicky. He just needs to be patient.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 39
Kudos: 268





	domesticate

**Author's Note:**

> If you came for the world-building please turn around and keep walking. Otherwise, enjoy this "create your own backstory" adventure.
> 
> Written for this kinkmeme prompt that lived rent-free inside my head for days:
> 
> "Modern dystopia AU where Nicky is given to Important Person Joe for marriage or as a gift, kept man etc.  
> Nicky is an inexperienced virgin who may or may not believe that sex is bad. Joe is ok with that, he could force him with no consequences but instead, he takes great pleasure in seducing Nicky but not with flowers and poetry but by being a creep.
> 
> Some ideas:  
> \- he keeps masturbating in places where he knows Nicky will walk in on him  
> \- buys Nicky sex toys and explains in detail how they work  
> \- watches porn in the living room, makes Nicky watch it with him  
> \- touches himself when watching him showering or changing  
> \- gives him very inappropriate compliments (fe. Love the way your cock looks in those pants, I heard you masturbating last night etc)  
> \- buys Nicky sexy underwear and insists he tries it on
> 
> He never touches him tho, the fun is to “seduce” him with no touching
> 
> Nicky has no privacy, cannot say no or indicate he is uncomfortable, as after all he is Joe’s. He eventually breaks and begs Joe to fuck him.  
> Big bonus if he apologises to Joe for being a wanton slut and a whore and Joe reassures him it’s fine- he is a wanton slut but he is HIS wanton slut."

Overall, it’s a mixed bag, Joe’s new husband.

The man—his husband, his Nicky—is objectively beautiful. He looks like a Roman statue, something out of a painting, and that alone makes Joe’s fingers twitch to draw him, to fuck him.

But when he moves in to touch, alone, up in their bedroom, Nicky’s unpacked suitcase sitting at the foot of the bed, his husband jerks back. It’s the tiniest movement, but Joe notices the way Nicky instantly stills and steels himself, eyes flinty, jaw set, nostrils flaring slightly.

Nicky will let him touch him—probably because he knows he doesn’t really have a choice, if that’s what Joe wants—but he doesn’t want Joe to touch him.

Suddenly the thought of fucking Nicky’s sweet, tight, virgin ass is no longer enough. Joe wants him to beg for it, wants to see him out of his mind, drooling around Joe’s cock as his face is fucked and then leaking into the mattress as he pounds him.

He wants Nicky to want him. He wants him to beg for it.

So. No fucking tonight. Probably not tomorrow night either. But for Nicky, Joe thinks, he can wait.

He smiles. “Why don’t you get unpacked, beloved?”

———

Nicky spends his first night as a married man waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He was ready for Joe—his new husband—to take him, possibly incredibly forcefully. He’d resolved to be as strong as he could be, not to cry or shout or beg, no matter what he had to endure.

But then Joe told him to unpack. So he did. He came into their marriage with very few possessions, his family being as poor as they were. A few outfits, a pair of shoes. An old blanket he’s had since he was a baby. A couple photographs, and several books.

He dithers at the dresser for a moment before he realizes there’s a drawer that’s cleared for him. His clothes don’t come close to filling it.

Joe notices and smiles again, all sunshine. “Don’t worry, my heart, we’ll go shopping and get you more.”

Nicky shifts under the intensity of his gaze and the brightness of his smile. “It, ah…I don’t need much.”

Joe shakes his head. “You deserve the best. Besides, there is space for you the closet as well.” His smile brightens. “And it’s a shame for you to hide away your beautiful body in such ill-fitting clothes, my Nicky.” The grin looks sharper now.

Nicky swallows and picks up his blanket. “I…is it okay if this goes on the bed?”

“Of course.” Joe is still looking at him keenly. “Perhaps I’ll go watch something downstairs before bed. Would you care to join me?” A pause. “Or would you rather get to bed? You must be tired.”

Nicky doesn’t know if this is a test, what will happen if he elects not to spend any more time with Joe. Will he be punished for a displeasing answer?

He supposes there’s no time like the present to find out. “I am tired, thank you.” It comes out stiffly, but Joe’s smile doesn’t dull.

“Of course. I’ll be up later. No need to wait up, my love.” Joe turns to go, then pauses at the doorway. “Pick whichever side of the bed you like,” he adds over his shoulder.

Nicky readies himself for bed and crawls into the left side, the one furthest from the door. He spends an unknowable amount of time staring at the ceiling the semi-darkness, the lamp on the right nightstand left on for Joe.

When he hears footsteps on the stairs, he clenches his eyes shut. There’s a period of rustling in the room and the en suite, then he feels the bed dip beside him. The lamp turns off, and he’s painfully aware of the sound of his own breath, the noises from Joe’s side as the other settles.

Joe doesn’t touch him—Nicky knows because he hears soft snores before he even begins to consider winding down—but he doesn’t stay on his side. He falls asleep feeling the other man’s breath on his neck.

———

The next morning, Joe wakes to an empty bed—disappointing—and descends the stairs and ambles into the kitchen to find Nicky making coffee—a pleasant surprise. Even better, Nicky is wearing loose sweatpants that ride dangerously low on his waist. There’s a bit of softness around his hips and stomach that Joe wants to grip, to kiss.

He’d drop to his knees right there on the kitchen floor, but he reminds himself to be patient. It’s like when his sister got a new cat—she’d had to introduce it to her home slowly, giving it plenty of space, letting it hide under the couch and occasionally hiss. It didn’t take long before it warmed up to her.

Joe knows it will be the same with Nicky. He just needs to be patient.

“You’re so pretty in the morning, Nicky. Your sleep-tousled hair.” Joe bites his lip. He really can’t help himself.

Nicky turns away from the coffee maker. He’s blushing and it’s terribly noticeable on that pale skin.

“Oh Nicky,” Joe laughs. “Don’t you know how to take a compliment? A sweet ass like yours?”

He shoots for teasing, but Nicky stiffens. “I…” He swallows. Joe watches the movement of his throat and imagines him swallowing his load.

“You know that I was…hoping to go to seminary,” Nicky manages. Of course Joe knows. He’s sure Nicky would have gone, had his family’s financial situation been more tenable. But this man would be wasted on chastity and piety.

“My love, the only thing you should worship now is my cock,” he says easily.

The blush is back. Nicky stares at the ground. Joe fears for his very nice, very expensive mug—Nicky has a death grip.

“Hey, Nicky,” he says, soothing as he can manage even though he’s already a little hard. Nicky looks up, cheeks still flaming. “Don’t worry, darling. We’ll wait until you’re ready.”

Nicky stares, distrustful. Joe moves to pour his own mug and winks.

———

Several days pass. Joe spends his mornings (which never begin before 10 a.m.) in his studio, working until mid-afternoon. He breaks for lunch, then usually does some form of exercise. He showers, then sits at his computer at the kitchen island—presumably tending to the non-creative aspects of his business, though Nicky can’t say for sure—and then Nicky slinks into the kitchen and cooks.

Every day, he delays leaving the safety of the den until the last possible moment, and he cooks the fastest meals he can, all to minimize the time he feels Joe’s eyes on his back. His ass.

His “sweet ass.”

Initially Joe had insisted he didn’t need to cook—they could order in, they could go out—but Nicky told him he liked cooking, and he did, at least before it meant being ogled.

Joe hasn’t offered to take the chore of dinner off Nicky’s plate since that first night.

It’s mid-afternoon when Nicky finishes re-reading _The Hobbit_ and trudges up to the bedroom to grab another book. Joe would surely buy him more books, new books, but he hasn’t offered and Nicky doesn’t want to ask. He hasn’t asked for anything and he’s afraid of what he’ll give up if he starts—probably irrational, since Joe has actually demanded nothing of him—but the fear remains.

When he opens the door to their bedroom, he’s greeted by Joe, sprawled nude on the bed, towel laying on the floor.

He’s touching himself.

Nicky immediately moves to retreat, but then:

“Nicky, darling, wait.” Joe’s voice is a little strained, a little breathless.

Nicky stays, stock still at the doorway, staring at the towel.

“Come a little closer, my love,” Joe tells him. “Watch. So you know,” he adds, “how I like it.”

Nicky swallows. He moves to stand beside the bed. He watches the clench of Joe’s muscles—he is exceedingly fit—as he grips and tugs his cock.

Joe is staring into his eyes. Nicky desperately wishes he’d look away. He has no idea what in particular he should be watching for, in terms of technique, but he’s not entirely sure that’s the point of this.

Joe finishes and grins at Nicky, all dopey brightness.

“Just let me know when you’re ready,” he says, “and I’ll make you feel this good too.”

Nicky blinks. Despite the cheerful tone, it still sounds like a threat. 

———

Joe, already hyper-aware of everything Nicky does or says—and maybe more importantly, doesn’t do or say—observes him closely over the couple days following his little show for any signs he’s spooked him too badly. Nicky certainly hasn’t warmed, but he seems no more skittish than before, so Joe calls it a success.

One morning he wakes unusually early, still to an empty bed, but not to an entirely empty floor. He can hear the shower in the en suite and his heart flutters. Nicky is in there. Nicky is showering. Nicky is naked.

It’s early. Not all of his systems are online yet. He hasn’t had his coffee, for fuck’s sake. It’s been weeks of living with this man and Joe’s still not so much as seen his husband wet from the shower—Nicky always gets up and gets ready before he can even catch a glimpse of a bare ankle.

As his brain short-circuits, he stumbles out of bed and pushes open the bathroom door, he spares a moment to commend himself for removing the lock.

The shower is a glass walk-in, so he’s got a full, albeit steamy view of his husband. Nicky’s not as intentionally muscled as Joe, but he has nice broad shoulders, an ass even more tempting when it’s bare, and strong, thick thighs.

Those thighs. Joe will have to fuck them on the (hopefully many) days Nicky’s hole is too sore to take Joe’s cock.

He wants to step into the shower, but he settles for pushing a hand into his boxers. He must make a noise, because Nicky turns, clearly startled, but like all of Nicky’s reactions this one is restrained.

Nicky stares, paused with his shampoo still worked into a lather.

“Don’t mind me, my heart,” Joe tells him as he works his cock, aiming for casual and still probably sounding breathy. “I just wanted to take a look at you.”

After a moment of frozen indecision, Nicky turns back around and continues his shower. Joe has no idea if Nicky normally showers so quickly, so perfunctorily—he wouldn’t be surprised—but he still finishes before the water turns off.

Joe washes the come from his hand in the sink as Nicky, still turned away, wraps his towel firmly around his waist.

Nicky moves to hover beside him, in line for the sink. Joe beams at him in the mirror.

“Good morning, love.”

Nicky, flushing furiously—again! It drives Joe almost to madness—meets his eye for a second. “Good morning.”

Joe moves aside for Nicky to brush his teeth and stares as he fantasizes about fucking his husband over the sink.

———

After their encounter in the bathroom, Joe seems to be sated, until one morning Nicky, from the den, hears Joe rise, collect his coffee, and then—in an unnerving break from routine—make his way downstairs.

He smiles at Nicky, curled up on the couch and reading _The Book Thief_ for the third time since he’s moved in.

He’d expected Joe’s smiles and patience to have an expiration date, but both are seemingly endless. Part of Nicky wishes that Joe would just take him—in their bed, on this couch, against the counter—so he could release the breath he’s been holding all the time. The tension of it is unbearable. Surely Joe won’t wait forever?

“Nicky, my love, you look so lonesome down there. Keep me company this morning?”

Nicky shifts and marks his place in the book. “All right,” he agrees.

Joe’s smile, impossibly, widens. “Oh Nicky. I’ve been thinking, your body is so beautiful, so exquisite. I’ve been so inspired since you let me have a look at it.”

Nicky feels his jaw clench. He hadn’t felt like he had much choice in the matter, but he supposes it’s true that he didn’t ask Joe to leave or make an effort to maintain his privacy.

Joe is still babbling about his perfect human form.

“—please, come up to my studio and let me draw you? Just a few sketches, just to warm up, hmm?”

Nicky blinks at him. “Do you…will you want me to take my clothes off?”

“Oh, yes, very much so,” Joe says immediately, grinning cheekily. But, as Nicky’s heart begins to race, he adds, “but you don’t need to for the sketch, darling.”

“Okay,” Nicky says slowly, then follows Joe up the stairs and into the attic.

He’s only been in Joe’s studio once, when he first moved in. It’s a nice space, especially in the daytime, airy and cozy all at once.

Joe gestures to a chaise and sits down a chair across from it, sketchpad and charcoal in hand.

Nicky doesn’t recall this specific furniture configuration. Joe planned this, he thinks as he sits.

“How do you—” He cuts himself off before he asks such a stupid question as “how do you want me,” lest he provoke more crude commentary. “How should I sit?” is what he settles on.

“However, my love, however,” Joe says cheerfully. So Nicky sits in what he hopes passes for a natural pose with legs crossed and hands resting in his lap. He fixes his gaze over Joe’s shoulder as the sound of scratching charcoal fills the room.

At first, his skin is crawling. It’s all of Joe’s normal, maddening staring, dialed up several notches. But the stare moves from Nicky to the sketchpad, back and forth, and he feels himself relax fractionally. He takes the opportunity to do a little staring of his own.

Joe is a handsome man—smooth face, dark eyes, bountiful curls and Nicky starts to feel a little ashamed of himself for his frigidity. He could do worse than Joe, this good-looking man who has demanded significantly less of him than anyone else ever has and has shown him nothing but kindness, as uncomfortable as it is to bear.

The man in question looks up from his sketchpad and beams like the sun when he sees Nicky looking back.

“Beautiful,” Joe proclaims. “Perfect. You are perfect for me, Nicky.”

For the first time, Nicky thinks that if Joe touched him, he wouldn’t flinch away.

It would be—okay, maybe.

———

After the morning in his studio, Nicky’s energy has shifted. Though it would probably be imperceptible to anyone but Joe, he can tell that while Nicky is still tense, still anxious, the sharp edges of his fear have been sanded down. He’s not ready quite yet, but Joe has every confidence the day will come sooner than later, so he makes a few purchases in anticipation.

He’s working at the kitchen island and sneaking longing stares at Nicky’s ass while he cooks their dinner when he hears the doorbell ring.

When he returns with the package, he interprets Nicky’s quick glance as a promising sign.

“My heart, look what’s arrived for us,” he says to invite further curiosity. Nicky turns away from the stove and watches Joe tear into the packaging. Between the delivery itself and Nicky’s attention, Joe is starting to get hard.

At the top of the box is the set of plugs. He holds the package out for Nicky to get a better view.

Nicky looks wary, which is less promising. “What, ah, what is that?” he asks quietly after a few beats of silence.

“Plugs, darling, for you, for your sweet hole.”

Nicky goes red and makes a tiny choked sound.

“We’ll have to start small, with the littlest one to begin,” Joe informs him, keeping his voice as matter-of-fact as possible. He wouldn’t want Nicky to get too ambitious the first time out and be hurt.

Nicky blinks. Joe smiles and moves on to the next item, a ring gag, carefully selected to accommodate his cock.

He explains without waiting for Nicky, “This will hold your pretty mouth open for me to fuck.”

He takes a minute to savor Nicky’s reaction—his mouth is hanging slightly open and he’s gripping the back of one of the barstools—then runs his hand back through the packaging but comes away empty handed.

“Hm. The prostate messager and ropes must be coming in another shipment.” Joe turns back to his husband. “Anyway—what’s for dinner, love?” 

———

A few days later, the sex toys—of which there are now several—have taken up residence on the top of the dresser. They draw Nicky’s attention every morning as he goes to pick out his clothes for the day, and he falls asleep each night staring at them from across the room. Looking at them makes his stomach squirm.

Joe doesn’t bring them up, but surely, Nicky thinks, it’s only a matter of time. But the routine continues.

Tonight Joe pours wine with dinner, which is also part of the routine, when it’s a Friday. “To celebrate the weekend,” Joe had explained, though all their days are nearly identical, as Joe works at his leisure and Nicky doesn’t work at all.

Nicky made vegetable paella and Joe is flowing with compliments (also routine).

“Absolutely sumptuous, my love,” he effuses.

Nicky manages a stiff smile over his wine. “Thank you, Joe.” He’s making an effort to be more agreeable. The wine helps. Initially he’d thought to abstain, but he quickly realized it made no difference if Joe was using the alcohol to lower his inhibitions—if Joe wanted to have him, he would have him. And perhaps it’d be easier with a buzz, he thinks as he drains his glass.

Joe notices immediately, because he notices Nicky’s every move. It’s exhausting. “More wine, beloved?”

“No, thank you, we’ve both finished,” Nicky says, nodding at their scraped empty plates. It seems like Joe might respond but Nicky stands and collects the plates before he has the chance.

The nightly washing up is particularly fraught for Nicky, as Joe stands right next to him, taking the clean dishes from his hand and drying them, then moving around the kitchen to put them away. He never brushes up against Nicky, but Nicky is always tense from the prospect of it.

“Come sit in the den with me after we’re done cleaning?”

Up to his elbows in soapy water, Nicky freezes. This is a change. Normally Nicky passes the hours following dinner in the bedroom, reading or sometimes staring out the window (and lately staring at what Joe cheerfully informed him was a prostate messager). With the exception of their first night together, this is the first time Joe’s commented on it.

He doesn’t know what will happen if he says no. After months of living with Joe, he thinks it’s most likely the other man would shrug off the rejection, though if he beat and raped Nicky as a punishment, that would be considered within his rights.

Nicky reminds himself of his goal to be more agreeable. “All right,” he says, aiming for casual.

Joe looks like Nicky declared him the Supreme Immortal Overlord of Planet Earth, eyes lighting and smile stretching from ear to ear.

If this is all it takes, Nicky thinks, what’s the harm?

Dishes sorted, he follows Joe down into the den and perches next to him on the couch, legs crossed, hands in his lap. Joe leans back and lets his legs fall open, resting one arm behind his head, grinning easily at Nicky.

Nicky doesn’t have time to wonder what they’ll be watching—the TV flickers on and it’s instantly clear.

It’s pornography.

Specifically, it’s one man being taken by three others. One is in his mouth. The other two are in his ass.

It’s incredibly graphic. There’s a lot of moaning.

Nicky’s stomach feels sick, but underneath his clasped, shaking hands, he can feel himself getting hard.

He stuffs his hands under his thighs. He can’t touch himself. He can’t.

He should look away. He should get up and leave. He feels frozen in place.

Is this what Joe is waiting for? Is this what he wants from Nicky? The thought gives him the same feeling he gets when he looks at the sex toys. He feels dirty, disgusting. He feels hot all over. He feels harder than he’s ever been in his life.

The porno ends and the TV returns to a benign homescreen.

“Is that what you want?” Nicky blurts. His voice is shaking. He hates it.

Joe looks at him, eyes wide and serious. “What do you mean, my heart?”

“Do you want to…to share me.”

Joe turns completely to face him, the solemnest Nicky’s ever seen him.

“Oh, no, Nicky my love, no,” he tells him earnestly. “You are far too precious to me to share with any other. Please believe me, I would die before I let anyone touch you or harm you.”

It’s possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him. There’s a lump in his throat and his eyes are burning.

Joe accepts Nicky’s silence as he continues to fight tears, then gently ushers him upstairs. In bed, the familiar feeling of Joe’s breath on Nicky’s neck lulls him to sleep as he fights the urge to curl into his husband.

———

The night in the den confirmed everything Joe had suspected. Nicky was not afraid of him or repulsed by him—he simply had never been treasured and didn’t know how to respond to affection. It broke Joe’s heart.

Further confirmation came when Joe performed his weekly scan of the footage from the cameras he’d installed in each room. The day after Joe’s reassurance, Nicky had strayed from his very predictable routine. The minute Joe left for his run, the book was abandoned in the den as Nicky practically sprinted up the stairs to their bedroom.

Joe had watched, enthralled, as Nicky began to masturbate furiously on their bed. It was very clearly the first time he’d done so in a very, very long time—or, Joe thought with a sense of wonder, ever. He would have given almost anything to have been in the room with Nicky as he stroked himself off, but even this breakthrough was a result of unfailing patience on his part.

Still, he thinks Nicky must now be ready for a little bit more active participation.

So one afternoon he skips his workout in favor of a quick shopping expedition. When he returns, he calls Nicky up to the bedroom.

“I have a gift for you, darling.”

Nicky eyes the small bag with some apprehension but no recognition of the brand name. Poor Nicky, Joe thinks, completely unaware of the finer things in life.

He hands him the bag and smiles in encouragement. “Go on, then—open it!”

Nicky tentatively rifles through the gift wrapping and pulls out the first of five pairs.

He stares down the panties like he doesn’t know what he’s seeing. Then the flush—it will be the death of Joe, he thinks—starts to creep up his neck and cheeks.

“Nicky, my heart, would you try them on for me? You’ll be so exquisite, please.”

He watches Nicky swallow. He won’t meet Joe’s eyes.

“Please, love?”

A quick, shaky inhale, and then, “Okay.”

Joe beams as Nicky turns and hurries into the bathroom. Joe sits on the bed and waits for a few minutes before Nicky reappears. Suddenly Joe feels like he can’t breathe.

Nicky’s left his drab t-shirt on, but in a way it adds to the overall effect. At least, the lacy women’s underwear—this particular pair is navy—is certainly having an effect on Joe.

As he suspected, he’s not alone. Nicky is very obviously hard, the tip of his cock poking out of the top of the panties.

“It—” Nicky cuts off, swallows, briefly meeting Joe’s eye before quickly averting his gaze. He tries again. “It doesn’t fit quite right, I don’t think.”

“Mm, that’s because they’re ladies panties, my love. They weren’t meant to hold your perfect cock, especially not when it’s so hard.”

Nicky makes a tiny, distressed sound. His cock jumps in the panties.

“Nicky,” Joe says very seriously, “you are absolutely breath-taking. So beautiful. Turn around for me, please?”

He does as asked. The view from the back is as glorious as the view from the front.

“Oh, Nicky, Nicky,” Joe sighs. “You are a vision. An angel. Show me the other pairs, please?”

Nicky moves like he’s in a trance.

Next are the deep, blood red pair. “Nicky, you will be my ruin. The sight of you…I could die happy suffocating with my face beneath your ass, licking your hole through that lace.”

Then comes a smoky gray. “I won’t even take them off to fuck you, my heart. I’ll leave them hanging ‘round your ankles and pull them back up when we’ve finished.”

Emerald green. “Ah, my love. I would ask to paint you like this but I’d rather have my hands on your body than on my brush.”

Finally, black. “So lovely against your pale skin, Nicky. Shall I make you come in these sometimes, hm? It would probably ruin them, but it would be worth it for your pleasure, seeing you wild against my hand.”

Nicky’s voice comes out scratchy and broken: “Joe.”

Joe’s heart beats a little faster. Is this it? Is this the moment? “Yes, love?”

Nicky bites his lip. He’s leaked a little in the panties. Joe wants to taste it. But he waits.

“May I change before dinner?” Nicky finally asks.

Joe’s disappointed. He’s only human, after all. But he takes great pains not to let it show. He smiles softly, trying to convey with his eyes what he feels—that it’s okay, he understands Nicky doesn’t know how to reciprocate his affection, that he’s afraid of this sort of passion.

“Whatever you like, my love. Shall I start cooking something?” He can’t help his grin going a little sharp. “I’m quite hungry too.” 

———

Nicky has now come in each and every pair of panties. He’s sneaked up to the bedroom during Joe’s workout, changed his underwear, and rutted against the bed before climaxing. He hasn’t even needed to touch himself.

He’s been fastidious about doing the laundry, desperate to remove any evidence of his complete wantonness. His dirty perversion.

Joe wouldn’t call it perversion, though. Joe would call it beautiful or exquisite or heavenly or something else ridiculous that Nicky is desperate to hear.

Five days of rubbing his dick nearly raw on the lace and he still wants.

That night, at the first brush of Joe’s breath on his neck, he breaks.

“Joe,” he says softly into the darkness.

“Yes, love?” Joe whispers back.

“Will you touch me?” It comes out in a rush. His cheeks are on fire. Suddenly, he can’t stop. “Please, Joe, please touch me? You can—you can have me, anything, I just—please—” he breaks off, chest heaving. He could sob.

“Oh, Nicky, beloved,” Joe croons in his ear. “You only ever had to ask. I’ll give you everything—all and more.”

First, hands—hands on his waist, running up his sides, coming to cradle his jaw.

Then lips—on his chest, his neck, his mouth. There’s tongue too. Nicky pants into it. It’s good, for him, Joe is good. He’s not sure of his own skill, but Joe doesn’t seem to have any complaints.

“You can touch me too, my heart,” Joe pants into his mouth.

Nicky starts small. His hand goes to Joe’s curls, so soft in his hands. Joe makes a small sound, familiar to Nicky from the times he’s heard Joe pleasuring himself.

He trails another hand down Joe’s chest, feeling the tight muscles of his stomach, more defined than his own. Their legs tangle.

Joe touches Nicky cock and he moans. The noise is so unfamiliar to him—it sounds almost inhuman to his ears—that he nearly looks around the room for the hidden third party.

At the next touch, his mind goes fuzzy, only re-focusing when Joe moves away.

“Joe—”

“Don’t fear, love, I’ll be right back.” Joe leans over and switches on his lamp, then grabs a tube from the nightstand drawer. The next second, he’s back to pressing against Nicky.

The lamp stays on, which is not Nicky’s preference, but the feel of Joe’s hands stroking his cock quickly drives the thought from his mind.

He’s already so close, just a few more tugs would do it, but then Joe nudges him completely on to his back and runs his hands up and down the backs of his thighs, pushing up his legs.

“Nicky, love,” he pants. “Hold right here, yes?”

Nicky’s hands take over, legs spread high and wide, and Joe uncaps the tube.

He’s anticipating the slick fingers at his entrance—his hole, he thinks with a little squirm—but he can’t help tensing.

“This will feel good, Nicky, I promise you,” Joe tells him earnestly.

“What if it hurts?”

“It won’t. I promise. I would never hurt you, my heart.”

Nicky nods and focusing on unclenching every tensed muscle in his body. Joe smiles and rubs a single wet finger around his rim. It feels okay, and Nicky lets out another breath.

“Your hole is enchanting, Nicky,” Joe tells him. He blushes and feels the finger press in.

Joe kept his promise—it doesn’t hurt, but Nicky thinks he would much prefer Joe’s hand back on his cock.

His husband looks away from his finger (now slowly thrusting in and out) and back to Nicky. He makes an enquiring noise.

“It, ah, doesn’t hurt,” Nicky manages. “But it feels strange.”

“Patience, love,” Joe tells him with a smile. The look on his face is unbearably fond. He leans in and kisses Nicky, the wettest one yet, and the next time his finger presses in, it’s joined by another.

The stretch is more noticeable and bordering uncomfortable as Joe’s fingers press in deeper, crooking around, and then there’s a shock of pleasure running all up Nicky’s spine. For a second, he brains white out.

Joe laughs and Nicky feels the rumble in his own chest. “You see, Nicky? Just trust me.” A kiss lands on Nicky’s jaw.

Another press of fingers and Nicky moans. Joe’s fingers hit the same spot again, and again, and he writhes like an animal in heat. He sounds depraved.

Nicky’s only just noticed the prolonged absence of Joe’s fingers when he feels his cock pushing at his rim. From their positions, he can’t see to be certain, but it must be bigger, significantly bigger, than two of Joe’s fingers.

There’s no pain, but it’s still excruciating.

“Nicky,” Joe groans. Nicky can swear he feels his organs shifting inside, making way for Joe. He feels completely hollowed out but for the molten, iron rod of his husband’s cock.

“You’re so perfect, Nicky, opening up for me, taking all of me like this,” Joe breathes in his ear. He pulls back, then surges forward, and Nicky feels a press on that specific spot inside him.

“Joe,” he whispers.

“Mm, is that it, love? Right there?”

“Yes,” he gasps.

Another thrust. He moans. Joe takes him at a steady pace. He wants to scream.

“Nicky, Nicky, so good. Your hole clenched around my cock is rapturous. Tell me, does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

Joe stills inside him and kisses his neck. Nicky breathes into the silence.

“Joe…” He twitches his hips, trying to press back on to Joe’s cock, desperately seeking that spark of pleasure.

“Yes?”

“Please, can you…can you fuck me.” His untouched cock leaks as he says it. His face burns. Everything burns.

“Mm, Nicky, love, I am fucking you.”

Nicky swallows thickly. What good has pride ever done him? Hasn’t it just led him here anyway?

“Joe, please, fuck me…more. Harder. Please. I need—” he cuts off as Joe draws out and pushes back into him, just once.

Joe stares down at him, dark eyes shining. “You need?”

“I need you,” Nicky says, looking back.

“Fuck, Nicky.” And then Joe is back to it, though he’s picked up the pace. He kisses Nicky again, all teeth and tongue as he cradles Nicky’s face with one hand while snaking the other down to Nicky’s cock, and all it takes is one touch before Nicky is coming so hard he shakes.

Full minutes pass as he lies limply beneath Joe, who keeps pounding into him. The room echoes with little punched-out moans that Nicky belatedly realizes are coming from him.

He legs are splayed and twitching. He closes his eyes. There’s a burst of warmth and wet and he realizes Joe has come too, come inside him. It trickles from his hole when Joe pulls out—but not away—and rests his head on Nicky’s chest.

Joe peers up at Nicky. “You’re perfect. Perfect. I love you.”

Unthinkingly, he says, “I love you too.”

Joe’s arms squeeze around him, and the next moment he’s asleep.

———

As he draws, Joe reminisces. He thinks about that first night, when Nicky finally begged for him and writhed beneath him and was consumed with pleasure.

He thinks about the subsequent nights, when he got his mouth on Nicky’s cock and taught Nicky what to do when he was the one on his knees.

He thinks about the times he’s ridden Nicky, how the duration was a little disappointing, but the face Nicky made as Joe sank down on his cock was worth it.

He thinks about the times he’s made good on the promises he made when Nicky first tried on those tiny panties—bending him over every available surface with the underwear pooling around his ankles, licking into his tight hole until Nicky begged for his fingers and cock.

But what good is it to dwell on the past, as beautiful as it was, when he has what’s in front of him? Nicky, bound and gagged, living art.

(“Joe,” Nicky had asked haltingly as Joe bound him into a simple harness, tying wrist to elbow and calf to thigh, “you won’t…you won’t show anyone these?”

Joe took a good look at Nicky and he’d determined Nicky truly doesn’t want that—yet.

And that was fine. Joe isn’t keen to share. “No, no, my love, never. For my eyes only.”

Nicky’s lips twitched into his little enigmatic smile, an expression Joe would kill to keep, if only for another second. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” Joe had smiled. “Now open your mouth, darling.”)

Joe’s got a rough sketch completed, but he doesn’t think he’s managed to capture Nicky’s eyes quite right. It may be truly impossible, especially like this. There’s a fire burning there, but it’s glossed over, smoky with desire.

Nicky doesn’t have a wide range of motion bound as he is, but his hips are still trying to hump the air. No art in the world is worth this vision, Joe thinks.

Maybe with more time he could accurately capture the lust in Nicky’s eyes, but time is no longer on his side. Nicky’s been in this position for nearly half an hour, and though he has instructions on how he should signal Joe if he’s in pain or distress, Joe learned very quickly that Nicky cannot be relied upon to look after his own wellbeing when he gets like this.

It’s scorchingly hot.

Joe sets down his pad and stands. “How are you feeling, my heart?”

Nicky makes an unintelligible noise through the gag. A strand of drool leaks out his mouth. Joe smiles fondly as he moves to kneel behind him.

“Wiggle your fingers for me, love,” he says as he caresses Nicky’s neck. After a delay, Nicky does. Joe checks the all the ropes anyway, making sure there’s still plenty of give. He couldn’t bear to do any lasting damage to Nicky. He would sooner die.

Satisfied, he stands and walks to Nicky’s front. He slips two fingers into his husband’s open mouth and they’re immediately licked and sucked.

“Ah, Nicky, your mouth is irresistible. You love this, don’t you?” He thinks Nicky is beyond the point of comprehension, but it doesn’t matter. Nicky never explicitly asks to be gagged and usually must be cajoled to agree, and Joe knows it’s because it gets him like this, completely out of his mind with need.

Joe removes his fingers and feeds Nicky his cock. What Nicky lacks in practice, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

He teases himself with Nicky’s mouth until he’s dangerously close to coming. Joe pulls out and moves to kneel behind Nicky again, undoing the gag and gently sliding out the ring, careful of Nicky’s teeth. He rubs his husband’s jaw, but at this point he’s more concerned about any discomfort than Nicky is.

He guides Nicky to lay with his chest and cheek pressed to the studio floor, ass up. Joe drinks in the sight of Nicky’s hole clenched around the plug. They’ve already worked up to the medium-sized one.

Joe taps it and Nicky moans. He’s spent hours teasing Nicky’s rim with their plugs, but he’s hard enough to pound nails and has no patience for that right now. He pulls it out and Nicky’s hole twitches around the empty sensation as Nicky cries out.

“Shh, my heart, I’ll make it better—” But first, he has to hear him say it. “What do you need, my love? Tell me what you need.”

“Joe, Joe, Joe,” Nicky gasps. “Please, Joe, please, please.” He rubs his forehead against the floor. He pushes back against nothing. “I need it, I need it.”

“Nicky, Nicky, please what? What do you need?”

“I need you, I need you, please, Joe, please—” Nicky’s begging cuts off as Joe slides into him and begins to fuck, hitting Nicky’s prostate from the first thrust.

It’s amazing, of course, like it has been every time. Like he knew it would be.

Nicky is his. Nicky is perfect.

“Mine,” he gasps. “Mine, mine, my Nicky, my love.”

Nicky mewls out little kittenish noises. Joe thinks he might get him a collar.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been 84 years since I wrote fic, but this prompt just latched on to my id and I became obsessed with trying to write it in a way that still felt semi-true to these characters. Not sure if I succeeded on that bit, but if nothing else, I hope it was hot.


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